Distractions
by Celestriakle
Summary: Reala's trying to work, but a distraction arrives in the form of one caped maren. Reala x Jackle. One shot. Set between NiD and JoD.


(Read and review, please and thank you.)

The General's Study was a dark place: A few desks, a filing cabinet, maps and charts all over the walls and the round table in the center. A sole naked light bulb hanging from a chain attached to the ceiling provided the only illumination. An ebony chair lay on its side, half-hidden under a desk, a single chair for the single maren allowed in this place and who stood within its four walls presently. A worn pencil, full of ruts and gashes, made a slight mark on the map beneath it, then found its way back into the jaws of the nightmare who owned and chewed upon it incessantly as he poured over the maps in front of him. "Hmm..." Blue eyes darted from mark to mark, a type of shorthand undecipherable to anyone but its author. Suddenly, he growled, displeased, and threw it all from the table, slamming his hands down onto the bare wood beneath. "It's no good..." Reala fumed. "That'll never work."

"What won't?" inquired a lazy voice, and a sudden weight bore down upon Reala's back and shoulders, causing his eyes to widen and every nerve to tingle. Outside of combat, he expressly forbade physical contact with him of any kind; in third-levels, breaking this rule warranted death, and in second-levels, it ended in a severe beating. Only one maren continued to have the gall to disregard it, again and again. "Jackle..." he growled. "Get off of me, right now, and get out of my study."

_"Three..." _counted Jackle, silently. The body beneath him trembled. _"Two... Wo—woah!" _Jackle laughed as he leaped back, Reala's deadly claws only just grazing his flesh. The enraged maren general took a step towards him, and he quickly scrambled back towards the door. "I just wanted to know, Little Brother... if you've met my replacement?" he asked, quickly grasping at the only thing that might be distracting enough to save him, and breathed a silent sigh of relief as he saw the hot anger in Reala's expression cool suddenly, subverted.

"No, I haven't." Reala's voice held no enthusiasm for the prospect. As annoying as Jackle could be, he was the closest thing Reala had left to a friend, and he couldn't ignore the sharp pang of loss that tightened his chest every time he recalled Jackle's leaving.

"He's a lizardman," Jackle added, wiggling his fingers by his eyes to imitate Chamelan's independently moving eyes.

Reala grunted. "Has Master told you when you'll be leaving yet?"

"One week from now."

"Do you know what he's going to do with you?"

"Not a clue."

"Mm." Reala crossed his arms, retreating back into his thoughts, and his gaze dropped down.

"Hey..."

Reala's gaze shot right back up, and he saw Jackle had taken a step closer.

"Reala?"

"What?" he questioned, suspicious. He didn't like the look in Jackle's eyes, and the other nightmaren was slowly closing in on him. He began taking steps back.

"I was just wondering..." Jackle waved his hand in some vague gesture, and his face broke out in a grin as Reala bumped into the table behind him. He could see the glare as it began to form, the growl before it started to rumble, and he moved in quickly, swooping down to stop it all with a kiss. Reala's eyes widened; on either side of him, a hand slammed down upon the table and neither was his own. The force from the taller maren crushed him against the table and pushed him a few inches up into the air; he struggled to get himself into a position that hurt just slightly less.

"Ow!"

The kiss broke suddenly and left Jackle stumbling backwards and with his hand pressed hard to his cheek, trying to stem the flow of blood from a set of fresh lacerations. Reala, now seated upon the table, breathed hard and glared at his friend, eyes full of fire. "What the _hell_ was that about?" he demanded to know. A pointless question, he realized, as Jackle began laughing.

"I just..." Jackle attempted to get a hold on his laughter so he could speak. "just... wanted a goodbye present!" he finished, finally, his grin as wide as ever. Slowly, he lifted his hand from his cheek, examining it as Reala guessed his meaning.

"A kiss?"

"Yes." With a swoop of his cape, he stepped back towards the general. "Come on, Reala, please? Just one, a real one?" Seeing Reala's lip curl, the beginnings of a sharp retort, he quickly doubled his plea. "You don't even have to look at me. Close your eyes and pretend I'm someone else. I won't touch you anywhere else, so it'll be easy. Just one last favor, as a friend, before I have to go." As he spoke, he leaned in; Reala's hands gently felt behind him, making sure the way was clear as he leaned back and the immediate denial slowly faded from his eyes. "Please," Jackle begged, one last time, with finality, and Reala finally conceded, closing his eyes.

For the second time that day, their lips crushed together, and this time, Reala pushed back. There was no tender romance in the kiss they shared; it was a violent thing, a frenzy of aggression and ticking time. Jackle squeaked in surprise when he felt Reala's legs come up, finding by feel his invisible waist and wrapping tightly around it; his eyes fluttered open a moment as he lifted the smaller maren from the table and stumbled back, slamming against the wall. Reala's eyes were still tightly shut, but his hands pressed the against back of Jackle's head, assuring him that the caped maren was not ending this until he was good and ready.

When that time came, when Reala's grip finally loosened and he pulled away, both maren were panting hard, and their lips simultaneously pulled back into a grin. Reala rested his forehead against Jackle's, and his arms lay upon Jackle's shoulders, hands loosely clasped. "I thought you weren't going to touch anything but my lips," he teased.

"I'm sorry; I just didn't expect Mister Touch-Me-and-Die General to get so excited over a little kiss," he shot back. "Now, I gotta know: Who was I?" Perhaps it was only Reala's imagination, but Jackle's grin seemed to falter slightly. "NiGHTS, right?"

"No." The answer came steadily, easily.

"Ooh, ooh! I bet I was Wizeman."

Reala knocked him lightly with his boot for that, but Jackle just laughed. "Wrong again," answered Reala.

"Someone else?" Jackle inquired, interest peaked.

"No." Reala pushed away, unwrapping his legs, unclasping his hands, and—as Jackle's hands fell back down to his sides—dropping back down to the ground. "I didn't pretend you were anyone. You were you." He answered as casually as he could, giving a slight shrug.

"No way."

"Fine, don't believe me." Tossing a hand carelessly over his shoulder, he walked over to where he had thrown away his maps. Jackle giggled giddily, suddenly, and as Reala heard the door open, he looked over sharply. "Hey!"

"What?" Jackle's grin stretched miles.

"If word of what happened here leaves this room, I'll kill you before Master ever gets the chance. Got it?"

Jackle only laughed as he fled out of the room, leaving Reala to finish his work alone.

Shaking his head, he sighed and spread the maps back out on the table. "Now, where was I..."


End file.
